


somewhere in the middle of everything happy

by moonguilt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: FLUSTERED LANCE MY BELOVED..., Flustered Lance (Voltron), Getting Together, M/M, POV Lance (Voltron), anyway if u like reading klance being dorks and kissing. boy have i got the fic for u!, but lance is too much of a disaster to notice till the last second, for legal reasons i am gay and that was a joke, gay people (derogatory), it's this one. this is the fic. read it, keith is a nervous wreck too tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29946837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonguilt/pseuds/moonguilt
Summary: “Can you kiss me?”Lance doesn’t know where the words came from, but he wishes he did, because then maybe he would be able to shove them right back into their evil, embarrassing source and pretend they never existed.Unfortunately, his only available recourse now is to choke on his own breath and watch as Keith’s head rears back in shock, that ridiculous, gorgeous hair tousling with the movement and then settling against the smooth surface of his neck.  Dark eyes—who the hell gave this jerk the right to have such nice eyes?—bore into Lance’s own, so intense and grave that all Lance can do is turn his gaze and fix it pointedly on a half-empty water bottle at the far side of the training deck.-------------Lance lets an embarrassing comment slip during a friendly spar and has to deal with the consequences.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 140





	somewhere in the middle of everything happy

**Author's Note:**

> this is a birthday gift for my buddy gus who is a fantastic artist!! go follow him on twitter:
> 
> https://twitter.com/guppycohr

“Can you kiss me?”

Lance doesn’t know where the words came from, but he wishes he did, because then maybe he would be able to shove them right back into their evil, embarrassing source and pretend they never existed.

Unfortunately, his only available recourse now is to choke on his own breath and watch as Keith’s head rears back in shock, that ridiculous, gorgeous hair tousling with the movement and then settling against the smooth surface of his neck. Dark eyes—who the hell gave this jerk the right to have such nice eyes?—bore into Lance’s own, so intense and grave that all Lance can do is turn his gaze and fix it pointedly on a half-empty water bottle at the far side of the training deck.

It wasn’t Lance’s fault, really. One moment he and Keith were having a friendly hand-to-hand spar, the next Lance found himself up against the wall with a knee between his legs and a puff of hot breath in his face.

What the hell was he supposed to do? _Not_ have a mortifying impulsive bisexual crisis?

“... Are you serious?”

The voice, raspy and incredulous, breaks through Lance’s panicked silence. Keith is still standing there—he hasn’t moved; he hasn’t fucking moved and Lance wants to _cry—_ with his chest heaving from the exertion of their match and his hands on Lance’s—

_Wrists?_ Jesus Christ Almighty, his _wrists?_ Above his _head?_ This isn’t fair. Lance is going to pass out. He is _going to pass out._

“What?” he manages to get out despite the crack in his pitch. “Tch—no—” He forces a laugh, trying and failing not to shift too much where he stands. “That would be, like, super lame, like the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, are you even listening to the words coming out of your mouth, I mean really, get over yourself, mullet, as if I would—”

“Lance,” Keith interrupts, drawing Lance’s attention back to his face. His beautiful-handsome-awful face. He furrows his brows and flits his eyes searchingly across Lance’s expression, then repeats: “Are you serious.”

Lance shuts the fuck up for once in his humiliating, cruel, unfair life and swallows hard. He watches as Keith’s gaze locks onto the movement, following the bob of his throat, and it’s enough of a thrill that Lance does it again just to see those keen pupils dilate.

He wants more of that. Wants to _make_ that happen again. Wants to be the only one to do that to Keith. The thought is so sudden and possessive that it nearly bowls him over.

“... Depends on your answer,” Lance says, finally, cautiously, a barely restrained eagerness bristling just beneath his skin.

Keith’s eyes are back on Lance’s own again. His face drifts closer, but there is a nervousness there; an uncertainty and a disbelief and a _fear_. His breath is fragile as it ghosts over Lance’s lips, and for a moment he looks like he is about to turn tail and _bolt_ and then all at once he is pressing into Lance, crashing against him, smothering him with the push and pull of his mouth.

Lance is ascending. He is sure of it. He wastes no time in returning Keith’s fervor, exhilarated by the sensation of his lips and the teasing of his tongue.

Keith’s fingers release Lance’s wrists, but before Lance has time to file his very indignant complaints with Half-Galra Resources, those hands move to tangle themselves into Lance’s. Palm melds into palm, and Lance stutters a gasp at the intimacy. Keith’s gentle grip is warm, even through the worn leather of his gloves. It makes Lance desperate to rip the damned things _off_ so he can feel the contact without any barrier between them.

He is just about to demand exactly that when Keith slows to a stop and pulls back, just a sliver, and dodges when Lance chases after his mouth. That mouth, insufferable and irresistible, parts and exhales heavily into the minimal space between them—and then curls into a dangerous little tilted smile.

“Is that enough of an answer for you?” Keith asks, like the bastard he is and always has been and clearly always will be.

Lance debates sassing back. It _is_ tempting, that urge to satisfy his insatiable desire for banter. It would be so easy to slip into it now, to launch quip after quip, to say _I’ve had better_ and _Did you even brush your teeth this morning_ and _I think I’ve got mullet hair caught in my teeth._

“... Not quite,” he says instead, because he’s a fool for this boy and there’s not a thing to be done about it.

Keith laughs then, and so does Lance, and they meet back together somewhere in the middle of everything happy.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! find me at:
> 
> https://moonguilt.tumblr.com/  
> https://twitter.com/moonguilt


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